Struck
by TheLadyIntegra
Summary: Shameless overuse of characters Sandor, Sansa, Arya and Tywin. The Hound beats the Little Bird under Joffrey's orders, and now he's left angry and uninformed as to why she doesn't hate him for it. Arya realizes she enjoys Tywins company just a little too much, and Tywin is realizing that his cup-bearer has too many secrets for a stone masons daughter. And Sansa? She just wants out.


Just something I started ages ago. Haven't thought about it in a while, but anyway - enjoy!

**Chapter one.**

Sansa watched the disaster approaching, feeling as if time had slowed down to a near halt. The maid stepped up to her, hands shaking around the jug of orange juice. Joffrey had had her beaten not two days ago for spilling – though Sansa had been absent at the time. The maid tilted the jug, entire form trembling. She could feel Joffrey's eyes on them, could feel his anticipation of what would happen next. He knew, the evil bastard. He had known this would happen.

They sat at the breakfast table – her, Joffrey, and the Hound, a silent, ominous presence behind them. He had said that they needed to try and get to know each other better, but Sansa knew better. He wanted to torture the maid in front of her, for a blunder she would scarcely be able to help. She suddenly had a desperate urge to see the Queen, or even better – Tyrion Lannister. Surely they would be able to stop what she knew was about to happen. They could prevent it…_Please, please could one of them coming through that door_…

The maid's hand gave a violent jerk and a small amount of juice spilled onto the table – just a small amount, Sansa thought. The King probably wouldn't even have noticed if he wasn't monitoring the situation with such glee – but the maid gave a small yelp, eyes wide with panic and threw the jug from her hands. Sansa watched it twirl through the air and stared dully, even as it connected with her shoulder. She blinked in silence as the cold, sticky liquid drenched her hair and her pale pink dress. _He had known…_

The maid whimpered and looked torn between wanting to flee and wanting to grovel. Sansa tried to give her a forgiving look, but realized she probably just looked sad. She always looked sad nowadays. So she turned her head sharply to see the King's reaction. Joffrey had on a smug little grin.

"Stupid bitch!" He hissed happily, "You have injured My Lady. You will pay for this treason."

Sansa felt her throat close. The maid began to cry.

"I'm so sorry, Your Grace, My Lady!" She screamed into the floor, "Please find it in your heart to forgive me…I did not intend to harm…" Her voice trailed off into sobs.

Joffrey only smiled more widely and with a deft flick of his right hand, the Hound stepped forward from his place leaning against the wall. Sansa felt her eyes widen and her body stiffen. Her mouth opened of its own accord.

"She didn't mean to, Your Grace!"

Joffrey turned and looked at her with a smirk, "Whether intentionally or not, this buffoon has failed to serve me properly for the second time now," He redirected his gaze to the Hound, "Dog, remove her hands before they have an opportunity to ruin another tablecloth."

The Hound moved to step around Sansa, a bored expression on his face – how could he be bored at a time like this, when that poor girl, that poor, poor child had done nothing wrong and he knew it! But he still moved forward with that uncaring expression. She couldn't stand it.

Sansa was abruptly out of her seat, standing directly in the Hounds path. His apathetic expression turned to surprise as he stared down at her defiant countenance, as if he couldn't believe that someone as small and breakable as she would dare stand in his path when he had been given orders.

"You'll be wanting to move now, My Lady," He said in soft tones that only made Sansa's anger burn with more fury.

"No. I'm not going anywhere," Sansa said firmly, surprised by her own courage. She directed her angry gaze away from the Hound, towards the true reason for her anger. Joffrey looked furious, but she simply curled her hands into fists and glared back at him, "She hasn't done anything wrong! You knew she would be terrified after the last time you beat her and you made her come back and serve us so you could have an excuse to punish someone!"

"Silence!" Joffrey screamed, spittle flying from his mouth. He stood abruptly from his seat, looking intent on storming towards her and beating her himself. She seethed. She'd beat him right back this time, no matter the consequences, she'd kick him right in his sacred jewels and maybe bite him too for good measure because he was a crazy, sadistic, egotistical, hateful bastard!

But he stopped, halfway around the table towards her, he paused. And as the rage seemed to melt off his face, so too did Sansa's courage. His gaze flickered over her shoulder, to someone standing behind her…the Hound. He had been silent through the entire face off. A poisonous smirk crept over the Kings face, making Sansa far more terrified than his rage ever could. Joffrey addressed Sansa.

"You're going to regret that little tirade, you bitch," He hissed, "Seems to me that women will easily forget their place when their punishments are interrupted." His eyes shot to the Hound, "I believe uncle interrupted us before the Hound could give you your last lesson, didn't he?" His grin was absolutely, loathsomely evil, "No matter, we're alone now. Dog, beat her for her insolence!"

He shouted the command dramatically as if he expected an immediate response. Instead, a silence settled over the room, other than the maids soft sobbing. The young girl had curled up in the corner, watching with wide, terrified eyes. Sansa became suddenly hyperaware of the Hounds proximity to her, and her eyes darted back shakily to watch his every move. She tried to avoid looking at his face, she didn't want to know what she's find there….But when he spoke, she couldn't help herself from darting up to look at his dark eyes.

"It's my duty to do away with threats to your Grace's person," the Hound drawled lazily, "The girls no threat."

_That wasn't going to stop you from hurting that clearly harmless maid! _Sansa thought savagely, despite the terrified tremors going down her body and the realization that never once had this man hurt her – he had saved her from those men! Those men, who he had killed with such ease and efficiency. He could do the same thing to her, if he wasn't careful. Maybe that was why Joffrey had never tried to use him before – because the Hound was just too deadly, and her chances of surviving a beating from him were slim. But she had enraged Joffrey like never before, and the Hound was the only one there…

"Your _duty_ is to obey my every command, Dog!" The King snarled, "Do as I say before I am forced to _replace _you – " the word 'replace' was obvious in its meaning " – with someone who will."

The Hound actually looked incensed now, much to Sansa's terror. If he was bothered then he was losing his ability to handle the situation, and she felt the urge to run. Sandor Clegane fixed Joffrey with an angry stare.

"And do you think you'd be able to find yourself so loyal a dog _again_, you Grace?" He spat. Joffrey narrowed his eyes at the disrespect.

"I should think so, if I can't even get my current one to beat up a useless girl!"

The Hound clenched his fists, Sansa could see from her peripheral. She began to hyperventilate quietly, every breath, twitch and movement Clegane made watched with horrified intensity.

"Well go on you useless mutt! Teach her a lesson!" His eyes narrowed, "Unless of course you'd like to join her father up on my wall."

Sansa jumped as the Hounds hand jerked towards his sword. When he stopped himself halfway, she was even more afraid. He wasn't going to fight Joffrey…and she couldn't blame him of course, but that meant…

Slowly, the Hound began to fiddle with his gauntlets, moving as if to remove them. This simultaneously reassured and terrified Sansa – he was going to do it, but at least he wasn't going to be wearing those. He was still being considerate, because he was a true knight and he didn't want to be doing any of this, so she would forgive him right now before he even started.

"Leave them on," Joffrey had reclined back in his seat, watching with eager anticipation. The hound froze, eyes shooting up to the King in a frown.

"Unless you want your future Queen gutted, I'm taking these off." He said sharply. Sansa flinched at the term 'gutted'. And at the fact that they were both talking about it so casually, as if it were inevitable, as if someone wasn't going to interrupt and save her at any moment…

"If she dies it's your own fault, Dog," Joffrey said with a scowl, "My other knights beat her with their armor on. I don't see what the issue is."

_You've never seen what he can do to a man while wearing those, you miserable little pig! You want there to be a chance he'll kill me, it excites you, you evil, evil, **evil!**_

She looked up into the Hounds face, but it was exceptionally blank – and the fury that had been in his eyes just moments before was now shuttered out, leaving cold, hard black orbs. She backed away slowly. She knew what that look meant – knew that the Hound was going to obey. She was grateful that he had tried to help her, truly grateful. She wanted to stand in one place and let him hit her and whisper 'I forgive you, I forgive you' until he truly believed it, but she was just too afraid. She had seen what the Hound could do – knew that his blows made the other's knights look like frivolous ladies smacking around their weak wrists. She didn't want to die – she didn't want to be killed by the Hound of all people, the only blasted man beside Tyrion that actually made her feel somewhat safe in this tomb of a castle and now he was going to kill her.

He didn't even look at her, he only grabbed her shoulder as she attempted to back away from him. She whimpered, not at his grip which was as gentle as any he'd ever used, but by the fact that his hand nearly encompassed the entire right side of her upper body. He was just so…so huge! She wished he would look into her eyes_ God please, please just _look_ at me _because then she could at least get some reassurance out of his gaze that she would survive through this. But he didn't once meet her eyes, keeping his gaze somewhere above her head – which was easy considering their difference in height.

When he drew back his other hand, his fist tightly clenched, her mind jumped back in time, to watching him hit that man who had tried to rape her, to watching his entire insides spill out of the hole._ Oh God, oh God, just look at me _please_ – tell me that's not going to happen, please, please, _please_... _

The blow was more painful than anything she had ever felt. Someone, the maid probably, let out a loud scream. Her own breath left her in a choked gasp, and she would have doubled over, clutching her stomach had he not been holding her up. She was terrified for a single moment that when she looked down she would see her guts hanging out of her dress. She felt as if she had just been rammed into by a bull charging at full speed. Her eyes were popping out of her skull, spittle hanging from her mouth. She couldn't breathe for a moment and just how strong was this man?

She hung limply, squeezing her eyes shut and resolving not to open them again – she could pretend it wasn't the Hound, it was just another day with Joffrey and Merrin. Nothing to worry about, just a casual beating. She almost giggled. A casual beating? When had she started to detach herself from everything happening to her? When –

She cried out as another blow struck, this time in her ribs. She heard something crack and she bit back a scream at the searing pain, and the fear of actually hearing something in her body break. The Hound was breaking her. No, no, not the Hound…Just Merrin, getting an unusually good shot it. And she didn't want _Merrin_ to hear her screams because she knew this wasn't his fault and she didn't want to make this worse on his than it was, seeing as he was just as trapped as she was.

But she couldn't stop the tears. They streaked down her face as she staggered around. She vaguely heard Joffrey give some instruction, and then the Hound released her. She fell to the ground without his support, her head cracking painfully onto the floor. Her head swam, and she realized vaguely that she might try to crawl away instead of just lying there and taking it. Before she could think further on that, a kick lashed out, and this time she did scream, because more of the snapping had happened in her ribs and it hurt so bloody much. Head swimming, she could barely see the vague shape of Sandor's huge frame standing over her through her tears. He seemed to be arguing with Joffrey, probably trying to dissuade whatever other horrible things Joffrey wanted him to do to her. The Hound was nice like that, he really was. She didn't even flinch when she saw that he had drawn his sword and he hauled her to her feet before pushing her away, and she wasn't sure why he would do that and she staggered over her dress in confusion, suddenly aware of the white ringing noise in her ears. Then suddenly, pain exploded on her thigh, and she realized that he had swung his sword at her, and there might have been blood because something wet was trickling down her legs, even as she fell across the room from the blow, landing on her side and whimpering from the excruciating pain that ripped through her ribs.

But it didn't smell like blood, and she could hear laughter – the kind of horrible, evil laughter that broke through the white haze and made her realize that she had wet herself, she had actually lost control of her bladder. Another choked whimper swept through her, and she seemed to have lost the ability to scream. Then Sandor was moving towards her again, and there seemed to be a kind of rage in his eyes and she was terrified that it was directed at her. Maybe he was angry that she had urinated, even while the King looked ready to wet himself laughing. Whatever the reason, this time, when Sandor reached out to grab hold of her arm, she flinched back, attempting to crawl away on her side. Through the hazy fog of pain she realized that as she had flinched back, so had he, and it was actually strange that it was the first time she had done it – flinched that it. Whenever the other knights had…well, it was no good thinking about them.

Sandor was frozen for a moment, his mammoth hand hovering over her shaking arm. She stared up at him, his face slowly coming into focus as the tears halted for a moment. And she was shocked by the sheer intensity of the emotions that were playing over his face. She couldn't even recognize most of them. But one, she knew, prevailed over all – rage. He was furious. She blinked up at him, trying to clear away the hazy tears. He was all hunched over her, blocking Joffrey from view. He couldn't see her, so she shakily and quietly tried to lessen the Hounds rage. Staring into his eyes pleadingly, she said, "I'm s-sorry I wet m-myself, Ser, truly," she tried to give him a smile, but she felt as if her face was cracking in half so she stopped, and instead her eyes turned to the hand that hadn't yet grabbed her.

"What are you waiting for, Dog!?" Joffrey yelled, "What are you two whispering about? Did I say you could stop?"

Suddenly the Hound was standing up straight, and Joffrey almost flinched at the look he gave him. He had never seen that look on the dogs face, or on anyone's for that matter. The Hound sheathed his sword and bared his teeth, like the true dog he was.

"We're done here," He said through clenched teeth, and Joffrey narrowed his eyes. He wasn't entirely stupid, and however much he disliked the idea he realized it would probably be better to not push the Hound just that moment. He couldn't understand what perverse fondness his Dog had found for the annoying wretch who had crowded the room with her stench, but it had been ridiculous amounts of fun to watch him go at her. He would have to do it again in future, just perhaps not now.

"Fine, Dog," He said, keeping his tone even, "But before you get that mess out of my sight, take care of the task I gave you earlier," He indicated the maid staring in horror at what she had just witnessed.

Sansa watch the Hound move away from her line of sight, and she just relaxed onto the floor, allowing herself to ease into all the terrible, nearly blinding pain over her whole body. When she heard a woman scream, she closed her eyes. She didn't want to know. She didn't want to know that it had all been for nothing. So she let the darkness take her.

* * *

That's not the end, but it's all for now. Hope you all liked it. This story will also feature Arya and Tywin Lannister (because that relationship is just too freaking CUTE to ignore) It takes place somewhere in the middle of season 2 but is completely different plot-wise...Don't take it, or my botchy timeline, too seriously, I can barely even remember what I was thinking when I started this. In any case, it will contain lots of Sandor/Sansa and non-romantic (Maybe if she were, like, 50 years older they'd make an amazing couple, but not as it is now...ew) but still cute Twyin/Arya

If you'd like, review and let me know what you thought (seeing as I can barely remember what _I_ was thinking when I wrote this o.O) Reviews really are motivational, especially those with nice, constructive criticism and honest compliments. It lets you know what to improve on and what to just keep on going with.  
:)


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